lla.theburninghills-第4部分

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　That　part　of　the　hollow　exposed　to　the　sun　was　thick　with　grass　and　there　were　some　bushes　and　trees。　Where　he　lay　no　sunlight　could　reach　and　no　rain　unless　blown　by　wind。　There　was　grass　enough　for　his　horse　unless　he　had　to　remain　too　many　days。　Looking　around；　he　found　his　tobacco　and　papers　at　the　edge　of　the　ground　sheet　upon　which　his　blankets　were　now　spread。　He　rolled　a　smoke　and　when　it　was　alight　he　lay　back；　drew　deep；　then　exhaled。
　The　girl　might　be　an　Indian；　yet　she　was　no　Apache　and　this　was　Apache　country。　Yet　neither　her　facial　structure　nor　manner　impressed　him　as　Indian　and　her　inflections　were　definitely　Spanish。　Few　Mexican　families　were　supposed　to　live　along　this　section　of　the　border；　yet　it　could　be。
　It　was　very　hot。　He　rubbed　out　his　cigarette　and　eased　his　position。　Sweat　trickled　down　his　face。　His　mouth　tasted　bad　and　he　dearly　wanted　a　drink；　yet　lacked　the　will　to　rise。　Out　over　the　far　canyon　wall　a　buzzard　wheeled　in　wide；　lazy　circles。
　No　sound　disturbed　the　fading　afternoon　and　across　the　canyon　a　great　crag　gathered　the　first　shadow　of　evening。　Somewhere　a　horse　galloped　and　then　the　hoofbeats　drummed　away　into　silence　and　the　heat。
　Maria　Cristina　had　heard　the　riders　when　they　first　came　into　the　valley。　No　such　group　of　riders　had　e　to　the　canyon　since　her　father's　death　and　it　would　mean　nothing　but　trouble。　When　as　many　as　a　dozen　men　rode　in　a　group　in　this　country　it　meant　killing。
　Turning　from　the　sheep；　she　walked　to　the　horse　that　dozed　in　the　shadow　of　a　cottonwood　and　took　from　a　holster　an　ancient　Walker　Colt。　Held　at　her　side；　it　was　concealed　by　the　folds　of　her　skirt。
　She　had　no　reason　to　believe　the　oning　riders　were　friendly。　She　was　a　Mexican　and　she　owned　sheep　but　aside　from　that；　she　was　the　daughter　of　Pablo　Chavero；　who　had　died　up　the　canyon　to　the　west；　fighting　even　as　his　blood　wrote　its　epitaph　upon　the　rocks。　Listening　to　the　sound　of　their　ing；　she　could　almost　see　the　faces　of　the　riders。　Only　the　Sutton…Bayless　outfit　could　muster　so　many。　〃Juanito！　Stay　with　the　sheep！〃　Juanito　at　eleven　was　already　more　like　her　father　and　not　at　all　like　her　older　brother；　Vicente。
　She　walked　away；　her　hair　blowing　in　the　wind；　knowing　why　these　men　came；　and　she　waited；　standing　sullen　and　lonely　upon　the　hillside；　expecting　nothing。
　These　would　be　the　same　men　who　had　killed　her　father　and　driven　them　to　this　place。　And　now　if　they　could　find　him　they　would　kill　the　man　who　lay　up　there。　In　the　rocks；　perhaps　dying。
　It　was　a　vast　and　lonely　land　and　if　her　whole　family　were　killed　here；　there　would　be　none　to　ask　why。　Only　the　restless　eyes　of　the　men　along　the　street　of　Tokewanna　would　catch　fire　less　often；　for　she　would　not　be　passing；　her　skirt　rustling；　her　hips　moving　with　the　faint　suggestion　she　knew　so　well　how　to　use。
　It　had　been　four　years　since　she　had　a　new　dress。　Just　old　things　made　over。　It　had　been　three　months　since　she　had　been　to　town　to　look　at　the　goods　in　the　stores；　to　finger　the　cloth　she　could　not　buy。
　To　walk　in　the　town　was　good。　The　men　stared　and　made　remarks　and　the　women　turned　away　from　her；　their　lips　stiff；　eyes　angry。　She　was　that　Mexican　girl；　〃no　better　than　she　should　be。〃　The　women　resented　her　because　the　men　turned　to　look。　Deliberately；　she　challenged　their　stares。　She　might　hate　them　but　she　was　a　woman。　They　despised　her　but　they　wanted　her　too。　Among　the　pale…faced　women　her　dark　beauty　was　an　arresting　thing。　She　knew　it　and　liked　it　so。　She　knew　that　the　something　wild　within　her　was　felt　by　the　men。　She　lifted　her　chin　。。。　other　women　had　beautiful　clothes　but　she　was　Maria　Cristina。
　They　came　over　the　crest　of　the　knoll　in　a　tight　bunch；　then　walked　their　horses　down　the　slope　and　drew　up　a　dozen　yards　away。　There　were　ten　in　the　group　and　all　their　faces　were　familiar。
　Jack　Sutton　was　the　worst　of　them；　recklessly　good…looking　and　a　man　with　death　behind　him。　He　looked　her　over　deliberately；　insolently；　head　to　foot。　〃You　get　better…lookin'　every　time　I　see　you；　Mex！　By　the　Lord；　some　day　I'll　…〃
　〃Some　day！〃　Her　contempt　was　a　lash。　〃Some　day　you　get　keel！〃
　Ignoring　him；　she　turned　to　Ben　Hindeman。　〃What　you　want？〃
　There　was　no　nonsense　about　Hindeman。　Shorter　than　the　rangy　Sutton；　he　was　a　blocky　powerful　man；　his　broad　jaws　always　dark　with　a　stubble　of　beard；　〃You　seen　a　wounded　man　on　a　beat…up　red　horse？〃
　〃I　see　nobody。　Who　e　here？〃
　Sutton　was　staring　at　her　and　she　knew　he　wanted　her　and　deliberately；　with　every　move　of　her　body；　she　taunted　him；　hating　him　both　for　his　contempt　and　his　desire。　She　was　a　Mexican　and　she　kept　sheep；　yet　she　treated　him　with　contempt　and　it　drove　him　to　fury。
　〃If　you　see　anybody；〃　Jack　Sutton　said；　〃send　that　kid　brother　to　tell　us。　Better　still　。。。　I'll　e　back　。。。　alone。〃　He　looked　her　over；　grinning　with　no　smile　in　his　eyes。　〃I　think　you　need　a　man。〃
　She　turned　her　eyes　upon　him。　〃Where　is　a　man？〃　Contempt　edged　the　insult。〃You？〃
　Anger　whipped　his　face。　〃Why；　you　dirty　…　！〃　He　leaped　his　horse　at　her　but；　even　as　the　horse　sprang；　Maria　Cristina　whipped　up　the　heavy　Colt；　firing　as　it　lifted。
　The　blast　and　flash　of　the　gun　made　the　horse　jerk　aside　his　head　and　almost　fall；　but　a　bright　spot　of　red　showed　on　Button's　ear　and　blood　began　to　well　from　it　in　slow　crimson　drops。
　She　held　the　Colt　poised；　her　expression　unchanged。　〃You　go。　Next　time　I　no　miss。〃
　Unbelieving；　Jack　Sutton　touched　his　ear　and　brought　his　hand　away　covered　with　blood。　His　face　was　white　with　shock。
　Hindeman's　eyes　were　glinting　and　he　studied　Maria　Cristina　with　new　attention。　〃If　your　horse　hadn't　shied；〃　he　told　Sutton；　not　without　an　edge　of　satisfaction；　〃you'd　be　dead。〃
　〃Why；　yes；　Ben。〃　Button's　voice　was　low。　〃She　would　have　killed　me。　That　dirty　sheepherder　would　have　lolled　me。〃
　Hindeman　turned　his　horse　and　the　rest　followed。　Jack　Sutton　turned　in　his　saddle　to　look　back。　〃Keep　that　gun　handy。　Ill　be　back。〃
　As　they　crested　the　knoll　one　of　the　riders　lifted　his　hand　in　farewell。　It　was　Jacob　Lantz。
　Prom　a　pocket　in　her　skirt　she　took　a　cartridge　and　reloaded　the　Colt。　If　Lantz　had　tracked　the　man　this　far　there　was　danger。　He　was　a　queer；　stoop…shouldered　old　man；　more　bloodhound　than　human。　He　never　bathed　and　prowled　around　the　hills　like　a　strange　cat。
　What　could　the　man　have　done？　To　make　them　hunt　him　so；　he　must　have　killed　a　Sutton。　Twice　during　the　morning　hours　riders　paused　near　the　spring　and　she　gathered　from　talk　she　overheard　that　they　were　working　all　the　canyons　with　care。
　Juanito　walked　toward　her；　swinging　a　stick。　〃Who　do　they　look　for？〃　he　asked。
　She　looked　at　him；　her　eyes　warm。　When　she　had　turned　back　from　her　facing　of　Sutton　she　had　seen　Juanito　get　up　from　behind　a　rock。　Only　eleven；　he　was　already　like　her　father。　He　had　been　large…eyed　and　pale　but　he　had　the　rifle。
　〃A　man；〃　she　said。　〃They　look　for　a　man。〃
　〃I　don't　want　them　to　find　him。〃
　〃Maybe　they　won't；〃　she　said。
　A　rider　came　down　the　canyon　in　worn　buckskin　breeches　and　a　patched　vest。　He　rode　a　ragged　paint　pony。　It　was　her　brother　Vicente；　a　tall　too…thin　young　man　with　a　weak　face。
　She　stared　at　him；　feeling　no　kinship；　wondering　how　a　son　could　be　so　little　like　the　father。　Vicente　could　draw　a　gun　faster　than　any　man　she　had　ever　seen；　as　fast　as　Jack　Sutton；　probably；　who　had　killed　eleven　men。　But　Vicente　had　killed　no　one；　nor　was　he　likely　to。　He　was　a　weak　man；　without　courage。
　〃What　do　they　do　here？〃　he　demanded。　〃For　whom　do　they　look？〃
　〃You　afraid？〃　she　asked　contemptuously。
　〃I　am　afraid　of　nothing！〃　He　spoke　loudly；　glaring　at　her。　〃Why　should　I　be　afraid？〃
　〃Why？　Why；　I　don't　know。　Only　you　afraid。　You　always　afraid　of　everything。〃
　Juanito　could　not　hold　back　the　story。　〃Maria　Cristina　shot　Senor　Sutton。〃
　Vicente　was　shocked。　〃You　shot　him？〃
　She　shrugged。　〃In　the　ear；　only。　His　horse　jumped。〃
　Vicente　stared　at　her。　She　would　be　the　death　of　them　all！　They　had　little　enough　but　here　they　were　left　unmolested。　Why　could　she　not　leave　well…enough　alone？　The　business　of　gringos　was　the　business　of　gringos。
　Vicente　remembered　finding　the　body　of　his　father。　He　had　worshiped　his　father　and　his　father　had　been　a　strong　man　and　yet　for　all　his　bravery　and　strength　they　had　hunted　him　down　like　a　crippled　wolf　and　left　him　dead　upon　the　rocks。　What　chance　then　for　Vicente？
　He　stared　gloomily　at　the　ridges；　wishing　they　would　find　the　man　and　go　away。　Maybe　he　was　a　coward。　But　he　was　alive　and　the　sun　was　warm　and　there　was　music　in　the　wind。
　〃I　wish　they　would　find　him；〃　Vicente　said。　〃Then　they　would　go　away。〃
　Maria　Cristina　stared　at　him；　her　eyes　black　and　scornful。　〃You　are　a　fool。〃
　He　started　to　reply　angrily；　then　rode　away；　his　back　stiff　with　outrage。　Did　she　not　know　he　was　the　man　of　the　family？　To　speak　so　to　him！　But　he　could　not　maintain　the　outrage　for　it　was　she　who　ran　the　family　affairs　and　he　was　afraid　of　her。
　Maria　Cristina　stared　after　him　but　she　was　already　thinking　of　the　other　problem。　Where　could　a　man　hide　and　not　be　found　by　Jacob　Lantz？
　Yet　even　if　there　had　been　a　safer　place；　to　move　now　was　a　danger。　A　man　cannot　be　trailed　who　leaves　no　tracks　and　as　long　as　he　could　lie　quiet　on　the　shelf；　he　might　be　safe。　But　she　must　be　careful　。。。　very　careful。
　It　was　Maria　Cristina　who　led　her　family　to　this　valley　after　the　death　of　her　father。　She　had　learned　of　the　shelf　long　ago　and　went　there　sometimes　to　be　alone。　So　far　as　she　was　aware　it　was　known　to　no　one　else。　The　Indians　who　once　lived　there　had　chosen　the　site　with　care。　It　was　not　an　easy　place　to　find。
　She　had　bought　their　first　sheep；　she　tended　them　and　saw　to　their　shearing　and　the　sale　of　the　wool。　It　was　she　who　insisted　upon　the　strong　well…built　adobe　where　they　now　lived。　And　she　had　sent　to　San　Francisco　for　the　few　furnishings　left　after　her　marriage。
　She　had　married　a　gringo　cowhand　when　she　was　fifteen　and　after　her　father　was　killed　and　with　him　she　had　gone　to　Virginia　City　in　Nevada。　There　he　struck　it　rich　in　the　silver　mines　and　they　went　to　San　Francisco；　but　drink　and　gambling　broke　him　and　he　died　in　a　gun　battle　while　drunk。　Maria　Cristina　returned　to